I Belong With You, You Belong With Me
by JazzSquare24
Summary: A tragedy strikes Anna's family, and with heavy hearts, she and Etienne go their separate ways. But five years later, they meet again, in the very city that brought them together in the first place. A 'what-if' scenario.
1. Chapter 1

**Don't ask me where the inspiration for this Fanfic came from. I seriously don't know. It just sorta popped into my head and hasn't left me alone for a while. So, naturally, I wrote it. It's just a what-if, hypothetical situation that I wanted to play with. As with all of my Fanfictions, I try to keep the characters as authentic as possible. But since I am not Stephanie Perkins, I don't know Anna and Etienne as well as she does. So if you find traces of OOCness, sorry. Please read and review :)**

**Disclaimer: All rights go to Stephanie Perkins**

* * *

**Anna - Paris  
**

It's been about five years since I've seen Etienne. Five years since my little brother Sean passed away. Four years since I've lived in San Francisco. Four years since I've seen my friends Lola and Cricket. Three years since I've seen my mom. Yet it feels like almost no time has passed at all.

I'm living in Paris again - I haven't been since I graduated from SOAP almost six years ago. I've traveled to almost all the major cities of the world, and of all of them, Paris is my favorite. I don't think I'll be leaving any time soon. It feels like home to me - it reminds me of when life was happier and simpler. It reminds me of Seany. It reminds me of Etienne.

I haven't contacted my old boyfriend in almost five years. Why? Because I'm a wuss. I'm afraid to speak to him. I'm afraid that he has moved on from me - which I don't doubt that he has. A charming, handsome, English-accented boy like him wouldn't be single for more than a few days until someone snatched him up.

I don't really have any right to complain or hope that he still loves me. _I_ walked away from _him_ all those years ago. It was a few days after Sean's funeral. Etienne had traveled with me to Atlanta to attend it, which was sweet of him. Looking back on it, he was nothing but sweet while I was mourning my little brother. I just didn't appreciate it.

Sean died after an accidental consumption of Red #40. He was highly allergic to the chemical. I don't really know how exactly it happened - Mom doesn't like to talk about it. But his death changed my life. I was sick with grief. I couldn't eat or sleep. I didn't want to go to my classes - I was a freshman in college when it happened. Simply put, I hit rock bottom. My heart was broken and not even my Etienne could heal it.

He was the definition of a perfect boyfriend. He comforted me, and bought my groceries, and cleaned for me, and forced me to eat and go to class and interact with people. He supported me, and took care of me. Without him, I probably would have crumbled completely. He was always there for me. I was the one with the problem. I couldn't deal. I needed my space. I needed to heal.

So a few days after Sean's funeral, I said goodbye to Etienne. I told him I wouldn't be going back to San Francisco with him, because I needed to stay with my mom for a while. I told him I needed time and space to put myself back together. It was arguably one of the hardest things I've ever done, but I knew I needed to do it.

He didn't understand at first. I remember the look on his face - it makes my heart break, because he looked so confused and sad. I think about that conversation every day. I think about how I started to cry and he did to. I remember that I told him that maybe we'd find each other again someday. I remember when I walked away from him, I didn't look back. I couldn't have. If I had looked back, I wouldn't have been able to leave him.

That was almost five years ago. And I've healed. I've seen the world, met new people, seen _a lot _of films, good and bad. My website is more popular now. I'm almost done with school, and I've learned so much about film. It's partly why I'm back in Paris - to explore the cinema some more.

I've been here for about three weeks now. I'm renting a small flat in the heart of the city. It brings back so many memories of my senior year of high school. And, of course, it brings back memories of Etienne. He's in every corner of the city, in every theater, and in every bistro. Not a day goes by where I don't think about him. I wonder where he is. How he's doing. How his mother's health is. If he has a girlfriend.

I tend to think about the last one a lot. I've been on a few dates and met some nice guys, but I haven't had a real boyfriend since him. I imagine that Etienne is probably in London or Los Angeles or some other glamorous city. He's probably successful, and he probably has a gorgeous girlfriend. He probably despises me now. Or even worse, he might not even remember me.

It's heartbreaking to think about, but I've accepted it. Perhaps it's time for me to move on too.

I think about this as I walk through the city. It's lunch time, so I drop by my favorite cafe and purchase a hot bowl of soup and a sandwich. Another thing I've missed about Paris is the food.

After lunch, I wander until I find myself in front of Shakespeare and Company book store. The last time I've been inside, I was with Etienne. I figure I might as well go in and take a look around.

It's exactly as I remember it. Books on shelves that look like they might collapse. Books on chairs, books on the ground, books everywhere. The shop is a bit crowded today, but I maneuver my way to the back. I scan through the James Ashley section, just to see what his latest releases are. If he ever writes a book based on Sean and his death, I swear to God, I'll kill him.

I somehow find myself holding a Pablo Neruda book. My heart races as I flip through the pages and single out my favorite poem. I read the lines again and again, and Etienne's voice echoes in my mind as I read. I still have the copy that he bought for me all those years ago, with the starred passages. A smile forms on my lips and I hope to God that I don't start crying in the middle of the store. I close the book and admire the cover for a moment, when I feel a soft poke on my shoulder.

"Excuse me?" An English accent asks me.

I turn around. My heart stops. I'm face to face with Etienne St. Clair.

* * *

**Etienne - Paris**

When I wake up, I can't help but feel like today will be a good day. It's just one of those hunches that's proven by the little things that please me. For example, I wake to a fresh pot of coffee because I remembered to put the grounds in the night before. While shaving my face, I don't get any little nicks or scratches from my razor, which I really should replace. I receive a phone call from Mum, the History Channel has a documentary on Napoleon, and I have the day off. Everything is good this morning.

Around noon, I head out to run a few errands. I pass by the Shakespeare and Company bookstore. I hesitate to go inside. Every time I do it reminds me of Anna. But eventually, I figure that since I have nothing else to do, I'll just be quick and drop in.

It's more crowded than usual. It seems that everyone in Paris wants to buy a book today. I make my way to the historical section and scan the piles and piles of text books for something interesting. I've already read everything there is to know about French, English, and American history. Perhaps a book on Ancient Greece?

I scoot past an old woman to rummage through a cardboard box filled with books on Ancient times. I glance across the aisle momentarily, just for a split second, but as I lower my gaze, it snaps right back up. There's a girl standing across from me, flipping through a book. She has dark, pin-straight hair, no longer than her shoulders. She turns the page of her book, and I catch a bit of a smile, and a shiver runs through me because I swear to God I recognize her from _somewhere. _I can't quite see her face.

I feel a twinge in my gut. Is it Anna? Could it be her? But I scold myself. Why would it be her? What would she be doing here in Paris? But then again, I think. Why _wouldn't _she be here? Casually, I rise and abandon the text books and stand, pretending to examine the books in her aisle, but discreetly examining her.

The girl doesn't have a blonde streak in her hair. Anna has a blonde streak. But maybe she dyed it back? Perhaps it grew out and she never redyed it? I mock myself inwardly at how obsessive I am. I truly never got over her. How could I? She went from being the center of my universe to not even contacting me anymore.

I tried my hardest to forget about Anna. She clearly didn't want me in the picture then, so why should I spend my time longing for someone who didn't want me? But that is easier said than done. The very few dates I went on were excruciatingly awkward. Cricket and Lola tried to set me up a few times, which not only made me feel like a juvenile, but pathetic.

Eventually I faced the facts. I am in love with Anna Oliphant, regardless of that she broke my heart. I think about her every day. I think about what I possibly did wrong. Was I too clingy? Did I annoy her? Did she stop loving me?

I don't like to think about the last one. She told me that she still loved me when we broke up. But, obviously, that wasn't the truth. It's been five years and I haven't heard a word from her.

But now, here I am, gawking at a stranger who reminds me so much of Anna that I can't look away. The girl has closed her book. I can read the title. It's the collection of poetry by Pablo Neruda. I bought Anna a copy of that during our senior year at SOAP. My heart skips a beat. Is it a coincidence? Is it fate? I can't decide, but it doesn't matter, because before I can realize what I'm doing, I've reached out and poked her shoulder.

"Excuse me?" I say.

The girl turns around. She blinks at me once. Then twice. Her hair is shorter, and there's no blonde in it, but it's Anna. It's _Anna. _She's older, and she looks a little different, but she's _beautiful_.

I can't find my voice. We stare at each other in silence for at least ten seconds. Then a smile forms on Anna's lips, revealing the gap in her teeth. It's the most charming thing I've ever seen.

"_Etienne?_" she says softly, her large eyes narrowing as she scrutinizes me.

"Hullo, Anna," I manage to whisper.

"Oh my God." She seems to be in awe of me, and I'm certain that my staring proves the same about me. "I can't believe it's you. I haven't seen you in . . . " she trails off.

"Quite a while," I finish for her. Suddenly, a wave of bitterness crashes over me. Even though I've been reunited with the love of my life, I feel angry. I haven't forgotten what she did to me, and I won't let her forget either.

"Quite a while," she repeats, almost bashfully. "Wow, this is . . . I didn't . . . what are you doing here?"

"Looking for books," I say. Remarkably, I have now found my voice.

"I mean in Paris," Anna replies. "Did you finish school?"

I nod. "Graduated a few weeks ago, actually. I've decided to take a little holiday."

"Oh." Anna nods.

"What are _you _doing in Paris?" I ask.

"Studying film," she replies. "I'm almost finished with school. I graduate in a few weeks. I thought I'd study abroad for a bit." She glances down and then smiles at the cover of the Neruda book. "Remember this?" she asks.

How could I forget? "Sure," I reply nonchalantly.

"You know I still have that copy you gave me," Anna says softly.

My heart melts and cracks at the same time. "Oh," I reply, because it's all I can manage.

"What was that poem?" Anna murmurs. "'I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and soul.'"

I know all the lines to that poem. It makes me happy that she remembers it. But why is she doing this to me? Why, after all these years, is she still breaking my heart?

She looks away from me when I don't reply. I can tell she's embarrassed. I can't bring myself to mention the poem again, or my broken heart, so I ask a different question.

"How long have you been here?"

"A few weeks," she replies, placing the poetry book back on its slanted shelf. "You?"

"Almost a month."

"I'm surprised we haven't run into each other until now," Anna says.

"Well, Paris is a big city," I reply.

We have to step to the side to let an elderly couple move past us. In doing so, Anna moves closer to me, so close that I can smell her skin.

"This isn't a very good place to get reacquainted," Anna says. "Um . . . if you're not doing anything . . . maybe we could . . . get some coffee or something?" She raises her eyebrows and smiles hopefully at me.

My initial reaction is, of course, yes. But I hesitate. I want her to understand that she hurt me and I will not be won back so easily. Even though, on the inside, I'm already hers.

"Okay," I reply. Her face lights up, which pleases me. "Do you need to pay for anything?"

"Nope."

"Alright then." I smile. "Shall we go?"

* * *

**This is getting to be a pretty long one-shot! I didn't originally plan to include chapters in this story, but I suppose I must. There will be another chapter after this one. If you have any questions, they will most likely be answered in the upcoming chapter. Again, don't ask me where this came from. I just like to experiment. I wasn't even sure if I was going to publish this, but then I thought what the heck! I watched an interview with Stephanie Perkins in which she talked about how her characters were "obsessive". It's funny because it's true, but we love them anyway, right? I tried my best to avoid any OOCness. But alas, I am not Stephanie Perkins, therefore I don't know Anna and Etienne as well as she does. Whatevs. If it sucks...sorry. I really don't care if no one likes it. It makes me happy to know that it's up.  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, here it is! And by the way, did you all hear that the release date for _Isla _has been pushed back to 2014!? NOOOOOOOOOOO! It's so disappointing, but Steph did it for a good reason. You should check out her blog if you haven't heard the details. Anyway, that's a little sad. But I have no doubts that when it is released, _Isla _will be fantastic! **

**Read and review, s'il vous plait!**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Stephanie Perkins**

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**Anna - Paris**

I follow Etienne out of Shakespeare and Company and we burst into the street. We stand to the side of the building for a moment, unsure of where to go or what to do next. I feel awkward suddenly. He seems somewhat pleased to see me, but I can tell that there are betrayed and hurt feelings still lingering behind his charming demeanor. And there's still the very pressing question of _Does he have a girlfriend?_

Etienne glances at me and bites his thumb nail. "Any place in particular?" he asks, referring to the coffee date we made.

"No," I shrug. "Anywhere is fine. Have you eaten yet?"

"No."

"Alright, then why don't we go to _Pierre's_?" I suggest. He shrugs and gestures for me to walk in front of him.

"Lead the way," he says. He falls in step behind me. I'm highly aware of his eyes on my back as I set a relatively quick pace down the pavement. Of all the places to be reunited with Etienne, it had to be Paris. If my life were a cheesy chick-flick, we would have met at Point Zero and he would have swept me into his arms and confessed his undying love for me. Then we would have shared a passionate kiss and spend the rest of our lives together.

Unfortunately, my life isn't a chick-flick.

I wrack my brain for something to talk about. He's awfully quiet behind me. The only sign to inform me that he's still there is the loud _clomp clomp _of his boots. I glance down. They're the same pair that he wore when we were a couple. They're even more scuffed than they were years ago, but they've held together. I smile to myself.

"What's so amusing?" Etienne asks.

"Just those boots of yours," I say. "Don't you own any other shoes?"

He grins. "In case you hadn't noticed, these happen to be my favorite."

"Well, what will happen when you tire those ones out?"

"I'll buy a new pair."

We fall in step side by side. "What if they're out of stock?"

"Then I'll go around in those white sneakers you're so afraid of," he says, his smile mocking. "They'll make me feel more _patriotic_."

"Shut up," I laugh.

"I hope you've gotten over that irrational fear, by the way," he says, glancing down at my combat boots.

"I have, don't worry," I assure him. "I'm completely comfortable in Paris, now, thank you. Although the Metro still isn't my favorite form of transportation."

"Ah, but you're riding it all by yourself, aren't you?" Etienne places his hand over his heart as if he's personally touched by my efforts. "I'm so proud."

I shove his arm and he shoves me back. We laugh, and then our eyes meet. I'm startled by his. Brown is such a common eye color, yet on Etienne, it's like nothing I've ever seen. He gazes into mine like he's awed by my eye color too, and then he blinks and looks away.

The moment is gone. We continue our walk in silence until we reach the little restaurant. We take a table by the window and Etienne instantly engrosses himself in the menu, as if I don't even exist. Since I'm full from my own lunch, I settle on a coffee and push the menu aside. Our window provides a gorgeous view of Notre Dame, so I focus on that until the waiter comes by for our order.

"So," Etienne says after the order is made and our waiter leaves. "How's your mum?"

"She's better. She's still teaching, which makes her happy. I haven't seen her in a while," I murmur. "How's your mom?"

"Healthy," he says with a soft smile. "She's doing very well."

"That's great." I smile. "What about her art? Has she sold anything recently?"

"A few galleries have looked at her paintings," Etienne says. He folds his fingers together and places them on the table. "What about your dad? Written anything good?"

"That will never happen," I say. He smiles. "But he has published a book. It's called _The Dilemma._"

"Riveting."

"I know. I haven't read it, but of course there's a movie in production." My coffee arrives and I take small sips from the steaming mug. "It's not about Sean, thank God."

"He would do that?" Etienne asks. "Write a novel about Sean?"

"Well, it's certainly great inspiration for his genre," I say, my tone like poison. "If he ever even _considers _the idea, I'll kill him."

"I'm sorry," he says softly. I meet his eyes. He gazes at me intensely again. I feel my heart flutter.

"Thank you," I reply, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. Etienne's eyes catch my motion. I'm about to ask him about his own father, but he changes the subject.

"Why'd you get rid of your stripe?" he asks.

"Oh. It started to fade while I was in Italy. I couldn't buy any bleach, so I just let it grow out. That was a few years ago. I suppose I just never really thought about dyeing it again." I twirl my hair around my finger.

"I liked the stripe," Etienne says. Then he blushes. "I mean . . . not that your hair isn't lovely as it is . . . because it is . . . it's just . . . the stripe was . . . er . . . " he trails off, his cheeks bright pink. I smile.

"Thank you," I say. His food arriving provides a distraction. He ordered a panini, which reminds me of our first night out in Paris together, back in high school, when I was so scared of this city. I take a few more sips of coffee while he eats.

"So, we've talked about our parents except for one," I raise my eyebrows at him. He scowls.

"I was hoping to keep him out of this conversation."

"Has it been difficult dealing with him?"

"Not really," Etienne wipes his mouth with his napkin. "I almost never see him. Although he visited Mum and I in San Francisco last Christmas. It was dreadful."

"Why? What did he do?"

"Well, besides spending his entire holiday out and about instead of with _his own family,_ he criticized not only Mum's cooking but my classes at Berkeley."

"He's still not over that, huh?" I ask.

"No, he's not. And he'll never let me forget it."

"Well, as long as you're happy, he doesn't really matter, right?" I say as nonchalantly as I possibly can. Etienne mumbles something and looks away, filling his mouth with his sandwich to avoid replying.

I'm perfectly fine with, that considering my cheeks are burning. A truly _subtle _move on my part. As if I could have sounded any more desperate to know if he's been missing me. And it appears I've received an answer.

We finish our orders and pay for the meal. Then we leave _Pierre's _and wander the streets for a bit. I don't want to leave him just yet. I hope he doesn't leave. What if he does? What if he's dying to get away from me? What if he's sick of me, and is thinking of ways he can leave without being rude? He's probably thinking about his girlfriend right now - probably wondering how he even got stuck with me today. _Is _he thinking about a girlfriend? Is she French? English? American? Is she pretty? Is she -

"_Anna,_" The way Etienne says my name sounds like he's said it quite a few times already. "Are you listening to me?"

"Huh?"

He snorts. "Well, that answers that."

"I'm sorry," I say. "What were you saying?"

"We're passing by a theater." He points in the distance to a marquee showing _Breakfast at Tiffany's. _"Want to see it?"

I nod my head, relieved that he has suggested something for us to do. We stroll to the theater, pay for our tickets, then slip inside. We're the only ones in the screening room, but this doesn't surprise me. It's a weekday, after all.

"How many times have you seen this film?" Etienne asks me as we take two spots in the center.

"Five," I reply.

He chuckles. "Can you recite the lines?"

"Of course I can. And I can even tell you trivia about it. For example, there were about nine different cats used to play Cat," I say with a grin. Etienne laughs.

"How fascinating," he says. "I never would have guessed."

I slump into my seat when our conversation stalls _again. _I don't like this awkwardness one bit. It used to be so easy to talk to Etienne. Now all I can think about is the possibility of a girlfriend.

"You know, I haven't been to the movies in a long time," he says finally. We've just sat through two minutes of French advertisements.

"Really?"

"Well, that's not entirely true. I did go once a few months ago, when Cricket and Lola set me up with -" His voice catches in his throat and he glances at me.

I sit up. "Lola and Cricket? Set you up? With _who_?"

"A girl from school," he says, his eyes burning. I raise my eyebrows, silently asking for more information but secretly hoping he won't describe his perfect date or how wonderful the girl is.

He doesn't. He turns toward the screen and pretends that I don't exist. _Again._

My stomach turns to knots. I feel pressure behind my eyes. I'm beyond grateful when the house lights go down and the film begins. But I can't even enjoy the iconic opening scene, because all I can think about is Etienne's movie date. He went to the movies. With _someone else. _I mentally scold myself, because I have no right to complain. _I _was the one who let him go. But it still hurts.

Holly and Paul are strolling through New York City, doing things they've never done before, when Etienne's leg brushes mine. I stiffen.

"Sorry," he says.

"It's okay," I mumble back. I wait for him to move his leg away. But he doesn't. From the corner of my eye, I see his fingers gripping the arm rest. Experimentally, I wedge my elbow onto the arm rest beside his. Our arms touch. I feel him tense - I do as well - but neither of us move. We stay that way for a while. Neither of us looking at each other or saying anything, but still in contact.

"What about you?" Etienne whispers.

"What about me?" I echo.

"Have you been on many dates recently?"

"Not recently," I say. My cheeks are burning. My heart is racing. This whole situation is so unnerving. _He _is so unnerving. Etienne's eyes remain glued to the movie screen. I pretend to do the same.

"So . . . there's no one special?" he asks after some time.

"No," I whisper in a small voice. Then I manage to squeak, "Whataboutforyou?"

"No," he echoes. He turns his head toward me and glances at where our elbows are touching. Then his eyes meet mine.

I look away quickly, my cheeks on fire. I can't possibly look at him now, since the truth is so relieving it's embarrassing. "Your movie date didn't work out so well?" I ask.

"She was nice and it was . . . thoughtful of Lola and Cricket to try and help me," Etienne says. "But we didn't really hit it off."

"Oh," I say as nonchalantly as I can. Which, at this point, is not very convincing. Despite the delightful news, I still feel insecure. Just because he's single doesn't mean he'll want to get back together with me. He hasn't made any signs to prove that he's still interested. I don't want to completely humiliate myself in front of him.

I spend the rest of the movie mulling this over. I'm startled when the house lights turn on and I can see my companion beside me. Etienne nibbles his thumbnail - a habit that he never broke, apparently.

"So . . ." I begin, but he cuts me off.

"Anna," Etienne says, turning his body toward me. We're still sitting in our theater seats, so his legs are forced into mine. "There are some things we need to talk about."

I nod my head. "Okay."

He pauses to gather his thoughts. His big brown eyes bore into mine. My heart begins to race in my chest.

"What was the real reason why you left me?" he asks finally.

"The real reason?" I echo, flabbergasted. "What do you mean _the real reason_? The reason was that I just couldn't deal with everything on top of Seany's death and that I needed space."

"I'm certain that was part of it, but the _true _reason you left was because you were fed up with me, right? That you were . . . " he struggles to articulate his thoughts, "tired of me?"

"_Tired of you_?" I exclaim. My eyebrows must be touching my hairline, I'm so shocked. "You think that I was _tired of you_? How? Why? I don't understand."

Etienne's pale cheeks are bright red. He looks away from me and runs his fingers through his beautiful hair. "Never mind . . . this is all so embarrassing."

"It _is _embarrassing," I agree. "But we need to talk about it now. You're the one who brought it up." He looks reluctant, so I press further. "Please, Etienne. This is important. And I'm quite relieved you suggested it because I've been dying to talk to you like this for a long time."

"How long?" he asks.

"A long, _long _time," I reply. "Please talk to me. Why do you think there was a different reason for me to leave you?"

"Because everything was fine up until your brother's death. Everything was _perfect_. But then he passed, and I tried to help you and comfort you, but it seemed like the more effort I gave the more distant you became." Etienne crosses his arms over his chest and stares at the floor. "And then when you said you wanted a break . . . well . . . I just assumed it was me."

"Etienne, that's insane," I say. "I'm sorry I grew distant. It was just so hard for me. But it had nothing to do with you. You were wonderful. You _are _wonderful." I take his hand in mine. He looks up at me in surprise. "I never wanted to say goodbye to you, Etienne. I've never loved anyone like I love you. I've missed you every single day that we were apart - it killed me to know that I had hurt you." I feel pressure behind my eyes. "You need to understand that I left for my own problems and _none _of them were associated with you."

"So you love me still?" Etienne whispers after a few moments of silence.

"Yes." I nod my head. "I love you."

* * *

**Oooookaaaaaay this is getting really long. I just really like to play with these characters. There will be another chapter after this because it's rated T for a reason ;) Teehee! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Goodness gracious. Sorry this took forever. Major writer's block, you know? Thanks for being patient!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

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**Etienne - Paris**

The words are out. Anna's cheeks turn pink but she keeps her eyes locked on mine. Neither of us says anything for a few moments, the movie commercials playing from the big screen filling the silence. Then, despite herself, Anna smiles at me and laughs.

It's a nervous laugh, one that I would recognize any time, no matter how long we've been apart. I can't keep the grin off my face as I think back to that moment on the top of Notre Dame, all those years ago. We felt the same way then as we do now, nervous and afraid but also eager to confess. I take her small hand in my large one and twine my fingers between hers. She leans in closer to me, her big eyes shining.

"Splendid," I say calmly, although I'm so happy my heart is racing. "I love you, too."

Anna laughs again, an adorable giggle, and cups my palm over her cheek. I can tell she feels just as relieved as I do. The hardest part is over - we've reconnected. Now all that's left is to show her how much I've missed her.

I'm leaning in to kiss her when the sound of chatter coming from the theater entrance stops me. We turn around, startled, as a group of people file into the rows and take their seats. Another film must be starting soon. This is our cue to leave the theater.

"Hmph," I grumble, irritated that our moment has been ruined. Anna smiles and rises to her feet, guiding me down the row of seats and out the theater doors. More and more people go in after we leave. The cinema lobby is crowded. Everybody wants to see Breakfast at Tiffany's, I suppose.

Once we break free from the mass of people, the streets of Paris seem empty by comparison. Anna and I walk silently, hand-in-hand. I can see with my own eyes that she has mastered the art of navigating the city. She doesn't hesitate to pull me right onto the Metro and find a seat in the otherwise crowded cart. I remember when she used to be terrified of going out into the city - even when we moved to San Francisco, she was a little nervous. She never told me that she was though - in fact, when I asked her, she would always deny it. But Anna is like a book, and her body language is easy to read. Now I can tell she's completely at home in Paris.

"Where are you taking me?" I ask her.

She shrugs. Our hands are still locked together. "I don't know."

"Really? No itinerary?" I tease, reminiscing on a conversation we had many years ago.

Anna rolls her eyes at me. "Alright, I might have a place in mind . . . but I'm not telling you where. You'll find out when we get there."

Our ride is taking us from Paris' south side, into the heart of the city, so I already have a clue as to where we are. But I play along with her game. "Is it your place?" I whisper in her ear.

"_Etienne._" She blushes and glances around the cart, as if the passengers might have heard me. I chuckle and wrap my arm around her. She nestles into my side. I rest my cheek on her hair and sniff her hair. It smells sweet and clean, and it feels soft against my skin.

"Seriously, Anna. Where are you staying?" I ask.

"_La Maison,_" she says.

I feel a little discouraged, because that building is quite far from my own flat. Certainly not walking distance. But then again, that hasn't stopped me before. "Is that where we're going?" I ask again with a sly smile.

She pokes my stomach and giggles. "No, it isn't, although I can tell it's where _you _want to be. Why do you want to go to my place so badly, Etienne?" She looks up at me, her eyes twinkling. My heart pounds.

"Doesn't have to be your place," I murmur. "It could be my place."

"Reunited for only a few hours and already you're thinking of such things." Anna shakes her finger, but her smile says she doesn't disapprove. I grin. "Where is your place?"

"_L'auberge._"

"Hey, that's near the Latin Quarter, isn't it?" Anna asks.

I nod. "Yes, it is. Quite far from _La Maison_, though."

"Well, as lovely as it sounds, that's not where we're going right now," she says. "But I don't think you'll be very surprised when we get there."

The Metro comes to a halt and the doors open. A few people dart out, but even more come rushing in. Now the crowded cart is packed, with majority of the new commuters standing and gripping the poles and handrails. I glance at Anna. She seems unphased. The Metro starts up again, and she shifts closer to me.

My eyes scan the sea of faces, and I notice someone in particular. A young man, probably around my age, stares at Anna. It is easy to tell that he's doing it because he finds her attractive. She doesn't seem to notice him, though. She keeps her eyes trained on the window across from us.

I've never been the overly-protective, jealous type. But I must admit, the ugly feeling wells inside me. The bloke has not diverted his gaze from Anna. I'm not even sure if he's blinking. As if boring holes into her head with his eyes will get her attention. With the arm I have wrapped around her, I place my palm on her shoulder and splay my fingers over her upper arm. She glances at me and smiles. I smile back. Out of the corner of my eye, I look back over at the young man.

He catches my message. Anna catches me exchanging a scowl with him. The Metro stops, the doors open, and he, along with several others, file out.

"No need to be jealous, Etienne," she says with a knowing smile. I scoff.

"Jealous? Nonsense, Anna." I realize that my actions were probably immature, but evidently, I don't feel shame in doing it. Anna just rolls her eyes at me.

"Seriously," she says, linking her fingers through mine. "You're the only guy I ever notice." She gives me a long look. She doesn't need to say anything else. I know exactly what she means.

I press my forehead to hers and close my eyes. My body is practically aching with the desire to kiss her, but I resist. From the way Anna grips my hand, I know she's feeling the same way.

The Metro comes to a stop again, and Anna pulls me to my feet. We navigate through the crowd, and eventually climb the stairs that carry us from under the ground to above it. It doesn't feel like we've been walking for very long until we've come to La Jardin du Luxembourg, the Luxembourg Gardens.

I turn to Anna and grin at her.

She's already smiling, too. "Brings back memories, huh?"

That is an understatement. This is the place where we had our first kiss. I remember everything so clearly, from the softness of Anna's hair under my fingers to the way her lips tasted. I'm dying to find out if they taste the same.

We stroll through the gardens. It's a perfect day, so the green is abundant with people. We find a shady spot beneath a tree and sit down together. Anna seems relaxed, but all I can think about is the fact that we've been reunited after five years and I still haven't kissed her yet. I sit as close as I possibly can next to her, our sides pressed together. I can smell her perfume. It's light and sweet, probably something French.

"I haven't been here since high school," Anna explains, her eyes trained on two little boys sailing boats in the pond. "So I figured that these circumstances were appropriate for a little reminiscing." Though she doesn't look at me, I can hear the implication in her voice. My heart pounds.

"And by reminiscing you mean . . ." I trail off. She turns her face to look at me. Our noses are mere inches apart.

"By reminiscing I mean," she murmurs. Her eyes are now watching my lips, and mine are watching hers. "That if you ask me to kiss you -" She giggles and her cheeks turn pink. "- I will."

"Kiss me," I whisper, but I don't wait for a reply. My mouth is on hers and my arms are wrapped around her. Anna's balance is slightly thrown, so she lies on her back and lets me cover her body with mine. Her fingers are in my hair and on my back. She tastes better than I remember.

This kiss is exactly as I imagined it would be. And I've been imagining it since the day she left. It's just the right amount of everything - passion, tenderness, love. We don't need to tell each other how much we missed the other because this kiss can explain better than words. This time there is nothing holding us back from kissing as much as we want. I'm sure that people are staring, and mothers are probably covering their children's eyes and old people are probably giving us disapproving looks and the two little boys sailing their boats are probably pretending to gag at the sight of us. But I don't care. They are in an entirely different world, far from me and Anna.

She gently sinks her teeth into my lower lip and tugs on it, which drives me crazy. My moan isn't too loud, but I open my eyes and glance around for the sake of my dignity. Anna laughs lightly and sits up.

"Perhaps this isn't the best spot?" She remarks, smoothing down her hair.

I grin at her. "You know, my flat isn't far from here."

She blushes and smiles shyly. I take her hand and help her to her feet. She rubs her thumb over the inside of my wrist as we walk to the exit of Luxembourg Gardens and onto the street once more. I can't help but wrap my arm around Anna's waist and press a few kisses into her hair. She smiles at me, and before I know it, we're in front of my building.

* * *

**Okay, I said that this would be the last chapter but it got so long so quickly! So I'm adding another because I don't want to deprive you of the good stuff... *wink wink* Thank you for all the follows and favorites and also thank you to EllaEllle for reviewing! I'll update soon this time, I promise! Love you all! **


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